J. FRANCIS MURPHY 
By ELIOT CLARK 


BY 
Exurot Crane 


—— 
a 
« 
. 
aon. 
gi 


i 


- yee 
iva, 0S) a oe 


: 
We 


7 
> 


be 


a 


ye 


J. FRANCIS MURPHY 


BY 
Evrot Clark 


New Yorx 
PRIVATELY PRINTED 


MCMXXVI 


* py... ra 
ae. Pen 
r = % cA 
PD ah ‘ ie. 
hs ia | - » 
+ * 
F * 


aUM 2am 


: 
> 
ns ; 
78 
one, oF, 
wn - oo 7 
eo ae oe Sg 
: 
; 
; 
ni 
4 s 
; ' 
« 
‘ 
* 4 o. 
5 
5 
; ’ 
a 


THE AMERICAN ARTISTS SERIES 


George Inness. By Elliott Daingerfield. (Out of print.) 
Fifty Paintings by George Inness. 

Homer Martin. By Frank Jewett Mather, Jr. 
Fifty-eight Paintings by Homer Martin. 

Alexander Wyant. By Eliot Clark. 

Sixty Paintings by Alexander Wyant. 

Ralph Albert Blakelock. By Elliott Daingerfield. 
Winslow Homer. By Kenyon Cox. 

Albert Pinkham Ryder. By Frederic Fairchild Sherman. 
John Twachtman. By Eliot Clark. 

J. Francis Murphy. By Eliot Clark. 


IN PREPARATION 
J. Alden Weir. By Frederic Fairchild Sherman. 
Theodore Robinson. By Eliot Clark. 
Abbott H. Thayer. 
George Fuller. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Portrait of J. Francis Murphy 

by Irving S. Wiles 
The River Farm ; 
Tints of aVanished Past . 
The Path to the Village 
October 
Neglected Lands 
Late September 
Rain ee 
Afternoon in October 
Grove and Field 
Russet Season 


Hillside Farm 


Frontispiece 


Page 


12 
16 
20 


28 


32 
38 


6 460 


50 
52 
56 
50 


-_ 


saresncers 


‘y 
“ 


* 


~~ 


me 
’ 
4 
, 
. 


2vorrAaTeDLaL 


. 


« 


se), 


+o a 
\ oe 


J. FRANCIS MURPHY 


. 
3 


at 


AD. LAme 


3 c 
a¢, ke 


J. FRANCIS MURPHY 


PART ONE 


@AHIE name of J. Francis Murphy has 
44| something of a formal and impersonal 
SAN flair. Were we to say John Murphy, 
SA Sacel\s the association with the artist would 


No) & [yy of * 
Rat 
howe 


WY at once disappear. One hardly knew 
his first name to be John. It was never 
used. Tocall him Francis would not have been fitting. 
Thereis something in the sound of Francis that did not 
become the man. To his friends he was simply Mur- 
hy; to his intimates, including his wife, he was 
Murph. The abbreviation of a name imparts a pecul: 
iarly human touch and the name Murph wasalways 
pronounced with affection. There was only one 
Murph. This denotes a personality and John Francis 
Murphy was a unique personality. 
Hecombineda simple, unaffected, easy naturewith 
a shrewd and calculated comprehension. He was 
not intellectual. He ran around the corner from 
what might be termed culture. The Sunday news: 
paper pleased him better. He affected a real dislike 
for music, but he secretly loved simple melody. He 
disliked anything on show. Passive, somewhat lez 
thargic, indolent, almostlazy, Murphy was not, how: 
ever, truly naive. Informal, blunt and outspoken, his 
artistic expression was, nevertheless, highly sophisti- 


9 


cated. He was fond of calling his associates by their 
first name; his greeting was always intimate and 
hearty, but his conversation was noteither spirited or 
comprehensive. In expressive language he had an un- 
common vocabulary not found in the dictionary and 
when animated a keen Irish wit. Occasionally he 
would make a profound remark. In a discussion on 
Albert Ryder, a Boston painter, proud of a meticu- 
lous technic, disparagingly remarked that Ryder was 
avery poorpainter. ‘*Yes,”said Murphy, ‘avery poor 
painter, but agreat artist.” It was the unspoken word 
that counted always from Murphy. One knew him 
not so much from what he said as what he felt. He 
could pronounce ones name and radiate more than a 
full blown greeting. He was hearty and friendly but 
never verbose. Silence didn’t trouble him. He spoke 
directly and indirectly from the heart. He disliked 
a superior feeling. In fact he cherished the feeling of 
being one of the boys and never lost that feeling. On 
several occasions he was-asked to be the guest of 
honor at important functions but declined every such 
distinction. Iam not aware that he ever made a for- 
mal address or any form of ‘speech. 
Murphy disliked anything that made him selfcon- 
scious. He didn’t care for polished manners and dis- 
ensed entirely with form. A true romantic in inner 
sensibility, he never affected the manner or bearing 
of one in any way different from another. His dress 
was perfectly simple, but not in any studied sense. 
The nearest thing at hand that wascomfortable would 


IO 


do. He had no liking for the picturesque or bohemian 
attire that strikes a pose, any more than for the stiff 
and awkward garb of formal dress. In later life he 
wore evening clothes on such occasions when one 
would be conspicuous otherwise, and in the starched 
shirt he came to acquire a perfectly normal comz- 
posure. 

Murphy’s physiognomy was distinctive, not for 
any picturesque or striking peculiarity but rather be- 
cause his head wasparticularly wellformed. The bald 
forehead revealeda splendidly clean-cut, well-round- 
ed head, denoting judgment and balance. Impression- 
ably he was highly sensitive, and his observations 
searching and profound. But he did not voice his im- 
pressions. A gesture would doit easier. He disliked 
to sitin judgment, but he was a superior judge. He 
measured accurately the difference between the gen- 
uine and the affected, the sincere creation and the su- 
perficial stunt. 

The creative artist is at once passive and active, 
receptive and constructive. The highly cultivated 
intellect often precludes the sensitive and impression- 
able medium which is so necessary to artistic expres: 
sion. But the mindofthe artist is concernedwith other 
judgments than those of the logical world, and he 
weighs and measures impressionable forms in a manz 
ner incompatible with more truly cerebral judgments. 
It was in this artistic measure that Murphy’s judg- 
ment was as keen and sensitive as the most astute 
logician in the realm of mind. 


il 


It is difficult to associate this blunt, simple and 
rather course nature with the delicate and highly sen- 
sitive artist. Yetnoartist was more truly ofone piece 
than Murphy and his work bears final testimony of 
the man, the true signature of the personality. 

Apart from his art Murphy’s life was singularly 
devoid of any great interests—no quest of adventure, 
no vexatious aspirations, no mundane temptations, in 
terrupted his habitual ways; no unexpected changes 
broke the uniformity of his days. For nearly forty 
years of his life he spent the greater part of the year 
at Arkville, his summer home in the Catskill Mounz- 
tains, but in his work we have hardly a suggestion of 
hisenvironment. Even hisspirit seems never to have 
been tempted to depart from the serenity of its accus- 
tomed mood. 

Born at Oswego, New York, April 11, 1853, 
Murphy’s boyhood days were passed during the agi- 
tation and strife of the civil war, and he therefore ar- 
rived at maturity in the happier days of reconstruc: 
tion. From one who was associated with a Chicago 
concern where Murphy was employed as a sign 
painter about 1870 we learn that although reasonably 
efhcient he was noticably lazy and in consequence 
was discharged. Murphy was evidently notonegiven 
to “punching a clock” and his indolence was due to 
that form of ruminating which is concerned with 
other things than sign boards. Saved from defacing 
the face of nature, and adding to that particularly 
American form of crying aloud on the landscape, the 


IZ 


RIVER FARM 

nigh, 12 inches wide. 

“J. Francis Murphy ’84.” 
T. Shepherd, New York. 


‘edhied dseendacaasidt el eand high 
sitive artist. Yetacanisc an anale 
— aire ial 
true signature of the pe 
co art ha 
fay Se quest of ac 
bie hehiest wiyhaee ec’ 
broke the uniformity of his reer 2 
years of his life he spent the g er part 
at Arkville, his summer home ith 
tains, but in his work we have hi: 


his environment. Even his 


ene pet a ntihie rs s 
tion. From one who was ciel Av 

concern where Murphy was em a 
painter about 1870 we learn that althe ug 
efhcient he was noticably lazy sod 

was discharged. Murphy was eviden 
to “punching a clock” and his an 
that form of ruminating which i is. 
other things than sign boards. | 


the face of nature, and adding 4 to 
American form of crying aloud ont 


I2 


ret a 


7 
st, 


‘ a oA @ ey 
ae + 2 a pf 


wh 


Ne 


vay 


future painter was dreaming of other ways of ‘sling: 
ing paint” rather than furthering that unsightly and 
vulgar competition which wages war with words. 
He was also saved from the more artificial and indirect 
way of studying art in the schools where one follows 
the standardized method of working in charcoal from 
the antique and life, slaving over highly finished draw: 
ings and perhaps thinking inwardly of fields and sky. 
Although seemingly self taught, Murphy was in rez 
ality learning the direct use of the brush and acquiring 
a knowledge of the fundamental principles of apply- 
ing paint in an enduring manner. At the same time 
he was forming a direct human contact withlife, learn: 
_ ing at an early age that independence which comes 
from self support and associating with workers rather 
than students. In this early training we thus see the 
beginning of Murphy’s later characteristics: his in- 
sistence upon the material nature of paint; his human 
sympathy and his independence. 

After the great fire of 1871 Chicago was hardly a 
favorable place for artistic encouragement and it was 
fortunate that Murphy moved to New York in 1875. 
The active section of the city at that time scarcely ex- 
tended above Forty-Second Street and the comparaz 
tively few studios centered about the old Tenth Street 
studio building. Monticelli’s cellar restaurant on 
Third Avenue was the favorite rendevous of bohe- 
mia where the elect assembled about a long table pre- 
sided over by the esteemed but somewhat garrulous 


William Page, president of the National Academy. 
13 


There one revived something of the artistic flavor of 
Italy and painters returning from Rome found asym- 
pathetic atmosphere. Murphy rented a studio in 
Ninth Street next Grace Church. The lower part of 
the building was occupied by the Vienna Bakery, 
founded by Fleishman after his success at the Phila- 
delphia centennial of 1876. In the recessed space in 
front was an open air cafe, while the floors above were 
converted intostudios. Will Low wasthere beforego- 
ing abroad in 1873 and F. S. Church occupied one of 
the studios at the time of Murphy’s arrival. There 
was alsoa Mrs. Manley, sculptress, and other artists, 
few ofwhomwerewellknown. William Henry Shel: 
ton, who came to New York in 1871, writes of Mur- 
phy’s studio: ‘As Iremember he always had displayed 
on his easel a pencil sketch of a tree—a slender stem 
with a few limbs and leaves drawn with great preci- 
sion—a wonderful study that seems to have served for 
the foregroundtreeinsomany of hispictures. I thinkit 
was the only sort of study he ever made from nature.” 
The pencil studies shown at the memorial exhibition 
held at the Salmagundi Club give an account of his 
whereabouts and indicate his manner of working. He 
had discovered an interesting country in New Jersey, 
not far from Orange, wherehe spentsome time before 
coming to New York and where during the summer 
months he had a number of young lady pupils, one of 
whom later became his wife. It is the memory of this 
time that haunts his finest pictures, though the exam- 
ples of that date arerather tight in handling and show 


14 


an insistent following of his pencil memoranda of fore- 
ground details and carefully delineated trees. 
Murphy was made a member of the Salmagundi 
Club October 4, 1878. A landscape in black and 
white presented to the Club at that date shows a sur- 
prising maturity for one but twenty-five years of age. 
The Club, then in its infancy, was formed not merely 
as a social meeting place but as a studio where the 
members might come for mutual help and criticism. 
The membership was composed of young artists just 
starting upon their career, combined with several am- 
ateurs and laymen either actively or sympathetically 
interested in art. So began an association which 
formedthemost constantbackgroundof Murphy’slife. 
Never a club man in the formal sense, Murphy was 
always at home at the Salmagundi, and for nearly 
fifty years was a familiar and congenial figure at the 
table board. In its functional or constructive life he 
played little part, though he was vice president during 
the year 1888, but he was a silent force in creating 
that friendly fellowship which is the greatest charm 
of Salmagundi. In 1898 he painted one of the panels 
forming the decoration of the hall in Twelfth Street, 
and now one of the treasured pictures of the new club 
house, across the hall from which is the well polished 
arm palette in silent memory. Notwithstanding his 
artistic recognition, the early years in New York 
were acontinual struggle for livelihood. His pictures 
sold for very small prices, but fortunately rent and liv- 
ing were comparatively low and Murphy was con- 


1 


tent with the simplest necessities. So he main- 
tained an independence which allowed him to carry 
on his work according to his heart’s desire. In 1876 
he exhibited his first picture at the National Academy 
and thereafter became an annual contributor, being 
made an associate in 1885 and an academician two 
years later. 

At the age of thirty-five Murphy had arrived at 
the culmination of the first period of his work and like- 
wise the most constructive epoch of his career. His 
studio at Arkville was built in 1887, long before the 
Catskill Mountains were familiar as asummer resort. 
The country was known by artists for its natural 
beauty and picturesque surroundings. Cole first 
worked in Catskill in 1825 and discovered there that 
‘‘wild and uncontaminated nature” which was dear 
to the poetic fancy of our Hudson River School; and 
Durand, F. E. Church, Kensett and others found maz 
terial for their picturesof mountain fastness and woodz 
land stream. It was the echo of the romanticism of 
Scott, the association of freedom with remote and un- 
cultivated places and the religious feeling inspired by 
nature as the uncorrupted expression of the Creator. 
Wyant came to Arkville in 1889 and from time to 
time other well-known painters formed a sympa- 
thetic group. Murphy found it a happy retreat to 
while away the summer days unhindered. It was not 
so suggestive for his pictures as for its unsophisticated 
environment. He was fond of backwoods ways, the 
easy life, the freedom from hurry and of indulging in 


16 


tent with the sinypledt nécessities. So. 
"tained an independence which allowed h 
on his work seinailias to his peres d — . 
he exhibited his fiewr pretare atthe National 
and thereafter became an anmual_contribub 
made an associate ix rs and an ¢ ad nic 
years later. oh 

At the age of oo Mucphy 

the culmination of the first period of kan 
wise the most constructive his: reer 
studio at Arkville was built in bees ong we be! 
Catskill Mountains were — a ne 
_ The country was on shes 
beauty and afer be 
worked in 2 SASH 
“wild an ipl 2 me Ady iat 
to the poetic Pao. ofieet idsor 
Durand, F.E. Church, Kénsts and 0 
terial for their picturesof'm 
| land stream. Te was the echo of d 


culebonted plades and the sins _ t 

nature as the uncorrupted expressiams 
Wyant came to Arkville im 38 
time other well-known pain ce s f 
~ thetic group. Murphy four . ite 
while away the summer daysut 
so suggestive for his Saieare 


environment. He ways fond 


easy Ete; tive lect Ghent : ue 
re 


aoa 


OuNntainr Ct 
ae 


+2 


his own manner of leisurely contemplation. Henever 
painted out-of-doors, and his pencil studies belong 
mostly to an earlier date. There is little suggestion of 
the country in his pictures. Murphy was not tempt- 
ed by the passing effects of nature, or lured into new 
ventures by suggestive material. Not gifted with a 
great imagination his mind was content to live within 
its own limited sphere. Arkville brought to Murphy 
the peaceful tranquility of nature, a retreat where he 
could vegetate during the warm season and prepare 
the grounds of canvases for work in the more invigor- 
ating days of autumn. Then his eye was alert and 
searching, and although he made no records of partic- 
ular places he was constantly observing the simple 
effects of earth and sky, measuring value relations and 
color harmony. 

Murphy had an intuitive approach to nature. He 
was not learned or scientifically schooled but he cre-z 
ated a natural affinity between himself and the ani- 
mated world. He established communication with 
the neighboring animals of the field. Squirrels were 
easily tamed and would come to him unafraid; a large 
trout in a near by stream knew his presence and 
would come out from hiding when the approach of 
another would immediately frighten him away. 
Likewise he was sensitive to the awakening of vege- 
tation and awaited with eagerness the first signs of 
new life in spring. He lived largely in this quiet but 
responsive world and drew from it much of the con- 
tentedness and serenity that found its ultimate expres: 


T/ 


sion in his pictures. He knew the swampy places 
where vegetation springs lush and luxuriant and 
waited for the first thrilling note of the tree toad or 
frog. Transcending the limitations of botanicalknowl- 
edge he drew from each flower of the field or neglected 
weed the true character of its kind and knew it in its 
own environment more intimately than from the rev- 
elations of the laboratory. 

In the winter at his studio in the Chelseahis finished 
painting was accomplished. There the inner ex: 
perience and subjective impression was finally and 
decisively rendered. The artistic judgment was 
brought to a focus. There was no puttering. If his 
pictures portray the subtle and evanescent effects of 
nature, the final painting was executed with the ut- 
most precision, the nervous and rapid touch of a high- 
ly sensitive mind. If his nature was passive and in- 
active, there is no hesitancy in his painting. It is not 
only skilled and dextrous but responds perfectly to the 
introspective mood that haunted his innermost bez 
ing. 
Murphy relied upon a certain texture, produced by 
the gradual scraping of hard pigment, which necessi- 
tated the ground being prepared many months before 
the final painting. It came, in a sense, to be a personal 
mannerism. Started with a vigorous and free brush- 
work, the paint lost something of its initial vigor but 
gained in that atmospheric and tonal quality so char- 
acteristic of Murphy’s art. We observe, therefore, 
that the structure of ground, although naturalistic in 


18 


tone is often stereotypedin treatment. Murphy never 
allowed his initial attack to show, but it forms that 
heavy underpainting which gives the earth its struc- 
tural solidity and weight. His pictures were in conse- 
quence started well in advance without a definite or 
finalidea, andthe Murphy composition brushed with 
freedom and graceover the hard pigment. This meth- 
od, so effective in its tonal quality, came to impose a 
very definite limitation upon his creative conception. 
It was, however, peculiarly appropriate to the temz- 
perament of Murphy. Not necessitating an active 
mentality or constructive imagination it allowed him 
the freedom from more laborious and often discourz 
aging creation and at the same time expressed the pez 
culiarly haunting mood of his subjective nature. 

Suggestive, free and seemingly impromptu asis the 
touch of Murphy, there is nothing in the man or 
his work truly slovenly, accidental or at hazard. Ob= 
serve his writing: exact and precise; hisearly signature 
clear and beautifully written; his later printed signa- 
ture painted when the picture had long been dry, the 
final touch of his approval, definitely and deliberately 
signed. Look at his palette: polished like a piece of lac- 
quer, thecolors standing out in calculated relation and 
in perfect harmony with the polished surface. Like: 
wise his studio: not scattered with unnecessary paraz 
phernalia or unfinished pictures; no sign of the inter- 
rupted idea or wasted effort; not showy, affected or 
consciously artistic, but reflecting the perfect poise 
and naturalness of the man. 


er, 


Of an equable and even temperament, combined 
with an easy and intimate manner, Murphy had 
many friends. Accepting no executive positions he 
had few enemies. In the days of trial and hardship he 
was not bitter or pessimistic; in the days of success 
and prosperity he was not superior. Always encour- 
aging to younger men, seemingly never jealous, he 
was himself modest and retiring. 

Murphy engaged i in few social activities. He was 
often present on juries of selection or award but acz- 
cepted no executive responsibilities. He was made a 
member of the Lotos Club and the Century, but was 
not an habitue of either. A few constant andold time 
friends came regularly to the Chelsea. He did not fol: 
low either the festive or intellectual activities of the 
city. The country was his natural background and 
as early as the weather would permit he was off to 
his rural haunts. When city interests did not require 
his presence he extended his stay at Arkville until 
early winter. Murphy retained much of his boyhood 
interest in country ways and this brought to his life 
the little pleasures of every day existence: the paper, 
the weather, current topics, or a visit from a passing 
friend. So time passed and years multiplied, the early 
call of his spirit was answered and his destiny ful: 
filled. 

Whittle thy stick away, oh painter of fields for- 
lorn: pass the time of day with village gossip or truant 
schoolboy fishing. Watts in England, governed by 


an unconquerable conscience, was up before light 


20 


and prosperity he was nots 
aging to younger men, seem 
was himself modest and 
Murphy engaged i it: few se 
often present on juries whee 
cepted no executive resp —— 4s ors | 
member of the Lotos Club a ce re 
not an habitue of either. At : 


friends came os paren 
low either th 


cy. Thacyties a shia 


as early. ith e weatha 


his rural haunes. W na 
his presence he cd ay 
early winter. Murphys 1EReS 
interest in country ways ad this be 
the little pleasures.of <a 
the weather, current bas ane on 8: 
friend. So time passed ana 

_ call of his spirit was al a 
White! 7 stick eee ~ padi: 
orn; pass the time ofdey Wit ss soi 
schoolboy fishing. Wabtedte le ! 4 

ani unconquerable CORRCH aE, was Pp 


ok 


ed) 


SORT TE ET a —— 


" 
mo 
to 2a ; 
ied 


of day while Carlyle smote with ringing steel and 
Roosevelt preached the strenuous life. But what is 
time in the realm of the timeless. Whittle thy stick 
away, or watch a hoppy toad jump. We are thank- 
ful for thy gift. There is music down by the pool, and 
singing in the night air.. Yesterday a hawk ate one of 
the chickens and tomorrow the widow’s boy is in for 
a good thrashing. But when the time was right and 
the brush ready there was no whittling. The instru- 
ment worked with the precision of magic and the 
mystical veil was laid out of nothing. Whittle thy 
stick, and watch the tadpoles grow. A motor car in- 
vades the valley and breaks the spell of timelessness. 
A sound only, yet time measured by speed changes 
the serenity of the peaks. The painters have gone to 
other fields and vacationists break the village spell. 
Perhaps the frogs don’t sing asmeaningly as before and 
the stick is getting thin. On exhibition walls the tone 
has changed. Strident brushwork and loud appeal, 
color and brilliant spotting break the stillness of the 
silent hour. The old time days have passed. The au- 
tumn is despondent with the early mountain chill. 
There is winter in the South. It is no longer winter. 
But hard to the last that little stick; so hard the knife 
is becoming dull. In the city there is the dress shirt 
and the cigar, and in the auction room astounding 
prices. Yes, thy days are done, oh painter of fields for- 
lorn. But thy message is written in ethereal magic 
across the sky and there is the glamour of the frogs in 


the pool. 


21 


Murphy died on Sunday, January 30, 1921, the 
year in which the Salmagundi, his second home, cel: 
ebrated its fifteenth anniversary. Two years previ- 
ously he had been greatly weakened by asevere attack 
of pneumonia and was advised to spend the winters 
in the South. On his return from Arkville in De- 
cember he was again stricken with pneumonia which 
resulted in heartcomplications; he was taken to Roose- 
velt hospital and survived only a day. The funeral 
services were held at the Fine Arts Building in Fifty- 
Seventh Street. The distinguished gathering was an 
honor and a tribute to the artist and the man. He was 


buried at Arkville, New York. 


PART TWO 


O the casual observer there isa striking similarity 

in Murphy’s pictures and his characteristic style 
is undisputed. But in the study of his work we will 
find that during nearly fifty years of picture making 
there is a considerable diversity of expression and 
subject matter and a gradual but consistent develop- 
ment. 

For convenience we may classify Murphy’s work 
in three periods. The first is associated with the soz 
called Hudson River School: the second shows the in- 
fluence ofthe French School of 1830 andits American 
exponents, Innessand Wyant, while the final period 
belongs to the mature and ultimate style of the master. 
Each change marks a decided sacrifice but also brings 
him nearer to himself. From the scenic landscape to 


22 


the chiaroscuro of autumnal sunsets he gradually de- 
velops the simple theme of earth and sky, of air and 
expanse, the serenity and beauty of nature’s unaffect- 
ed harmony. From the conventional attributes of the 
picturesque he seeks more and more the humble un- 
adorned simplicity of the fields and the ever changing 
hues of heaven. The study of Murphy’s work reveals 
the skillful picture maker finally discovering that in 
landscape man sees but the reflection of himself. 

Most of the early works are painted on avery small 
scale. Nature is deliberately arranged to make a pleas- 
ing composition. The associative idea belongs to the 
typical sentiment of landscape: a winding river, ver- 
dant trees, distant hills or mountains. There is an ap- 
parent balance and adjustmentof the principle objects. 
Not a personal impression of a subject seen and 
sensed, the composition is a composite and one that 
meets the qualifications of what a picture is expected 
to be. A certain sophisticated finish gives to the tech- 
nic a precious veneer and assures the purchaser of its 
commercial value. But the content isin no way exalt- 
edor profound. In the first period Murphy qualifies 
asa professional painter and gains a meager livelihood 
by meeting popular requirements. 

e remark that at an early age the painter be- 
comes a thorough craftsman. His workis never hur- 
ried or hastily improvised. The smallest picture is 
given complete consideration both in conception and 
execution. The paint is applied not only for its im- 
mediate artistic significance but for its proper dura- 


“> 


bility. The earliest examples we find today in perfect 
condition. The picture is not painted as a decorative 
hanging for a room or as an effective arrangement for 
an exhibition wall. It is essentially an easel picture 
to be seen and valued foritself. The artist hasasplen- 
did sense of scale and aérial perspective and within 
the limited dimensions of a book cover conveys the 
illusion of infinite expanse. 

The pencil comes in early use—a pencil with a 
sharp point—not to record effects but facts: fore- 
ground studies, field flowers, weed entanglements, the 
ornaments of the earth: tree silhouettes, old houses, 
barns and other picturesque data. Valuable material 
that later gives the contour significance and the 
ground structure. Happily, from the earliest efforts 
Murphy dated his work. His sketch-book was much 
in use during the seventies, particularly after his ar- 
rival in New Yorkin 1875, when we follow him dur- 
ing the summer months to the neighboring country 
of New Jersey. 

Strange that for one whose viewpoint was later to 
bein the distance, that in the early studies the interest 
isin the foreground. But we must remember that fol: 
lowing the method of the period the artist did not 
paint his pictures directly from nature but made in- 
numerable pencil studies of various details which 
were later brought together in the service of a single 
conception. The drawings show a decided precision, 
accuracy, and patience; a definite self-control and a 
highly concentrated vision. The pencil is used with 


24 


an aesthetic understanding of its technical limitations; 
the tone is not over emphasized and the outline is clear 
and constructive. 

In the formative period we observe three construc- 
tive manifestations moulding the work of the future 
painter. The direct study of nature, recorded in the 
drawings and impressed upon the perception; the 
study of pictures and the traditional manner of com- 
posing landscape; and the subjective reflection. The 
first informs the painter and brings together material 
for subject matter; the second gives form and a method 
of arrangement; the third imparts the emotional con- 
tent and isthe key to the personality of the painter. 
We recall many small early pictures which one 
would not associate with Murphy’s later work, pice 
tures complete and pleasing but in which one sees 
little premonition of the personal mood. Likewise 
we recall examples painted directly from nature in 
which the artist shows definite objective realization, 
rendered with spontaneity and precision. But it is 
only the occasional picture echoing his inner spirit 
that reveals the true sentiment of the painter and be- 
comes asymbolof all thatis to follow. Murphy is al- 
ways truly expressive when he reflects himself, when 
he follows his intuitive sense; but when he deliberate- 
ly endeavors to make a pleasing picture he becomes 
perfunctory. There is a landscapein monotone paint- 
edin 1878 now hanging in the Salmagundi Club in 
which the potential quality of Murphy’s personality 
is revealed. A landscape in which subject matter is 


= 


entirely secondary, wherein mass is used for its aes: 
thetic significance rather than graphic form and the 
tone sequence solely for unity of effect; a subject not 
pleasing for its accompanying associations of marsh 
and mist and yet embodying a truly poetical concep- 
tion. It indicates how all his later work evolves from 
the early sentiment and how it originates in tonal 
unity, simplification of form and expressive massing. 

A year later Murphy exhibited at the Salmagundi 
a landscape in the mood of Inness, an approaching 
storm under which was a poetical quotation sugges- 
tive of the theme. The chiaroscurois arranged with 
calculated effect: a distant mass of treesin deep shad- 
ow with picturesque silhouette, the sun striking the 
fields with emphatic contrast, the sky ominous and 
compelling, yet with a splendid reserve and technical 
control throughout. The darks have been repeatedly 
glazed to achieve the utmost depth without heaviness 
of effect. A complete and promising achievement, 
but one which we havenotseen repeated. Thus early 
the painter, attaining the dramatic, realizes, neverthe- 
less, that his true nature liesin the suggestive and sub- 
dued rather than the forceful and emphatic. Dispite 
the needs of livelihood he strikes repeatedly nearer 
and nearerto himself, working more and more within 
the restricted limitations of his nature and finding his 
true expression therein. 

The Last Glow, dated 1882, ismore truly a picture 
of foreground details and is particularly interesting as 
illustrating the structural understanding of forms 


26 


which at a later time were vaguely suggested. It also 
indicates Murphy’s real love of the homely orna- 
ments of the earth and his interest in nature’s mystic 
tracery. This is observed also in The Path to the 
Village in the Evans’ collection at the National Gal: 
lery. The picture plane begins in the immediate fore- 
groundand the land recedesinuninterrupted sequence 
to the village and the hills beyond. A group of pictur: 
esque trees forms the principal contrast of the middle 
~ ground. As early as 1882 the picture is unmistak- 
ably in the Murphy manner, yet in comparing it to the 
later examples we can see how the painter evolved. 
Although perfectly simple in composition in The Path 
to the Village the interest is diverted. We are con- 
cerned with foreground details as well as the distant 
villageandthe eyeisheld at the sametime by the elabo- 
rated lineofthetrees. Moreoverthescaleof the objects 
in the foreground compel one to look down to them 
rather than over them, andthe rather even division of 
earth and sky dissipates the attention. From a pure- 
ly graphic or illustrative view the picture is more 
realistic than the later manner, but from the stand: 
point of visual impression and emotional reaction it 
has not at all the same commanding realizationor com- 
prehension. We see therefore that Murphy came to 
eliminate the more patent and popular facts of nature, 
to sacrifice the objective details, so that he might mag- 
nify and heighten a single impression, and intensify a 
oneness of vision. In the Path tothe Village the spec: 
tator is a detached observer, in the later pictures the 


af 


spectator becomes a part of the picture. We must ob: 
serve also that in each change in Murphy’s achieve- 
ment that he sacrifices the most popular and objective 
interests and enhances the personal and subjective 
mood. 
_ In 188s Murphy wasawarded the Second Hallgar- 
ten Prize for his picture, called rather curiously, 
Tints of a Vanished Past. In subject itis most human- 
ly interesting, in color most ingratiating, and an ex: 
tremely lovely picture. It marks as it were a culmi- 
nation of the early period. Deservedly winning a 
welcome award it might quite naturally have been 
repeated, but we cannotremember a definite repeti- 
tion of this theme and the most popular attributes of 
it are the very one which he later omitted. Murphy 
grew from his best efforts. He knew when he had 
carried an idea to its uttermost conclusion and he 
never repeated the composition of his inspired themes 
although he so frequently repeated the ‘characteristic 
example.” | 

It would be entirely arbitrary to fix any exact dates 
to define the three periods which we have designated 
as marking the development of Murphy’s art. One 
merges gradually into theother, although in the early 
period we have remarked certain examples quite 
characteristic of the final period, as in the middle 
period we naturally find canvases which repeat the 
earlier effort as well as those which fortell the future. 
Beginning the study of art at an early age the first 
period may be said to terminate about 1885 and the 


28 


ack! 
VA 


spacraiebebeanne’ nek te pire 
pai that in cok change in Murphy's a 
ment thar he sacrifices the most populardad 
interests and enhances the peescosl's 
mood. 
In 1885.M hy was awsntid the: 
ten Prize for icture, 7 
Tints of a Vanished Past. ae 
ly interesting, in color most 4 
tremely lovely picture. Seta ar 
nation of the early period, D 
welcome award it might quite m 
repeated, but we cannot remember 
tion of this theme arertone sprost op 
it are the VBRY, Gh be lat 
gre wn bbeatedg 
carried?aG ishgnibeaW 5 Mee 
never repeated aitaat os “si - n of. 
although hesofrequen yee 
example.” : 
-  Jéwould be ciicinsllss prea 
_ to define the three periods which 
as marking the ‘cna tM 
merges gradually into the other, a 
period we have remarked 1 
characteristic of the final p 
period we naturally find cz 
earlier effort as a se 
Beginning the study _ art 
period may be said tot 


eee 


(3) “ 


Zz 


middle period to continue until 1900. It is apparent, 
however, that at each period of Murphy’s art there 
are canvases which completely embody the charac: 
teristic and unique expression of that particular time. 

In the second period, therefore, we observe the 
definite influence of the tonal school, certain examz- 
ples reflecting the direct contact with French land- 
scape and with Corotin particular, while the associa- 
tion with Wyantisalsoapparent. The point of view 
is more intimate, the form is treated for significant 
mass and picturesque contour, the foreground is not 
overburdened with irrelevant detail, the composition 
is arranged for organized relation of form rather than 
purely descriptive landscape. Thelight is heightened 
at the point of focal concentration and the chiaros- 
curois consciously gradated tobring together the prin- 
cipal masses and create a unity of effect. Thesky 
forms a functional relation to the dominant masses 
in the picture. The evening hour is the favorite mo- 
tive of this period, the golden light making a veiled 
background against which tree forms are arranged 
with telling silhouette. 

The pictorial conceptionhas a corresponding devel- 
opmentin the technical manner of presenting it. Thus 
we note the introduction of pigment textures to simz 
plify and suggest form and to render the fundamental 
elements rather than surface ornamentation, to give 
the solidity and heaviness of earth, the moving and 
ephemeral quality of sky, the soft fullness of foliage, 
or the delicate veil of sere woods. The palette knife 


“5 


takes the place of the brush and the under painting is 
carefully prepared before the final painting is attempt- 
ed. Over this surface thin glazes of transparent color 
give depth and richness to the darker hues and the half 
tones are rendered with asemi-opaquescumble. Thus 
the Murphy method evolves gradually from the thin- 
ly painted surface to heavy impasto, from the carez 
fully rendered subject to the suggested and impro- 
vised form. 
The picture in the Corcoran Gallery at Washing- 
ton, October, is dated 1886-093 and is the most im- 
ortant in size as well as the most representative 
example of the period of which we are speaking. In 
its process we see much of the technical evolution of 
Murphy’s art, though the finished surface gives little 
indication of the effort underneath. Pigment quality 
and texture, the glaze and scumble and dextrous final 
touch are all utilized in the calculated building up of 
the picture. We may even add that we can observe 
the later mannerism in the making. Here we find 
that virile solidity of structure, the understanding dif: 
ferentiation of essentials, combined with the delicate 
nuance, the gradated sequence and the evanescent 
hue which are the predominant attributes of Mur- 
phy’s expression. And here too we remark the per: 
sistent and continued effort to perfect the picture be- 
fore the signature of release. Reminiscent in comz 
position and tone of both Inness and Wyant it has, 
nevertheless, the personal touch and the manifesta- 
tion of sincere and deep feeling. The artist is growing 


30 


firmly and steadily within himself. 


The Autumnal of 1894 is painted in the same 
mood and likewise shows the persistent endeavor 
toward perfection. It is apparently the same group 
of trees seen from a greater distance. Somewhat 
over conscious and studied in design, the composi- 
tion has, nevertheless, a very noble poise and august 
balance. One does not find here the casual impro- 
visation or the hurried touch, but rather the loving 
care of varied line, the deeply felt gradation and in- 
dwelling depth of tone. 

Moreapparently inthe Barbizonmannerareseveral 
small oblong canvases, highly sophisticated in treat- 
ment and facile in rendering. The River Farm, a 
diminutive canvas in the proportion of one by two, is 
obviously a French landscape in which the low lying 
Normandy farm makes a decided center of interest. 
More fluid in the direct use of the brush than the later 
manner, the smaller pictures of this period have a de: 
cided painter-like quality. Unschooled in the more 
academicmanner of theolder painters, theyoung Mur- 
phy found the new method entirely sympathetic to 
his hand and at the age of thirty painted like a French 
master. But it must be remembered, incidently, that 
at the time of which we are speaking the Barbizon 
pictures were just being introduced in our country 
and were not at all in the approved and popular style 
of our Hudson River School. So Murphy starts his 
career as a radical. 

Murphy’s technical manner and his pictorial con- 


31 


ception never fitted him for filling large surfaces or ex: 
ecuting monumental paintings. But the eighties and 
nineties was the time of little pictures. The private 
home was used asa personal art gallery. The walls of 
which were hung with small and over-framed pic- 
tures, generally protected by shadow boxes. The 
whole interior was heavy and over burdened in effect. 
The old time parlor was in its glory. The demand 
therefore was for small pictures made important by 
heavy and expensive frames. Content with a most 
simple life and environment Murphy never sacrificed 
his artistic integrity, but it was happy indeed that he 
could make his living by producing these little pictures 
of his fancy. 

There is a small picture called Late September. I 
remember it in the collection of Robert Handley. It 
is one of the masterpieces of American landscape 
painting and one in which Murphy reveals most 
truly the signature of his soul. A most felicitous com- 
position it is compellingly inevitable and never to be 
repeated. It has that wistful melancholy combined 
with easy contentment, the idealistic grace springing 
naturally from the most homely environment. Wedo 
not feel anything of the factitious make up or the sen- 
timental claptrap of picture making. The expression 
completely transcends the limitations of the canvas 
and one does not think in terms of size. Although all 
of Murphy’s pictures are marked by a captivating 
patina and characteristic appeal of tone, comparative- 
lyfewreflect the true inspirationof hiscreative genius. 


32 


-_* 


eH 9 


Me 


CTED LANDS 


a 


-* es 
. , ¢ . ; fe , 
ae Ve) Ts ae oe ee eee ee re Ce, ow ae eS ee ee 


e 


ception never feted beans door febhting 
ecuting monumental 4 ngs. i ut the 
nineties was che tame of Sede sie c wes. Thi 
home was used as 2 personal at) ler y 
which were hang with reer ars 23 
tures, generally protected by 8 
whole interior was heavy andover 
The ld ume pare watt gh 
therefore was for small pictures m 
heavy and expensive frames. G 
simple life and environment Mus 
his artistic integricy, but it wash 


could make his er by — 


of his fancy. aK sas ae 
-. There is e 
2 ag ree “3 , 
remembes.4f SORES 


is one of B yrange 
painting and one in which 
truly the signature of his soul. / 
position it is compellingly in 
repeated. It has that wel 
with easy contentment, the idealis 
naturally from the mosthomely on 
not feel anything of the fac 3 
timental claptrap of piceure m 
completely be the limita 
and one does not think in terms o 
of Murphy’ Ss pictures are 1 


wee and charearaennis —- o 


y few reflect the ruein : 


_ Some of the finest smaller examples of Murphy’s 
brush are dated in the nineties. The technical man- 
nerism of textured underpainting was not so obvious: 
ly relied upon, and thereis a very perfect relation bez 
tween the size of the picture and the method of pre: 
senting it. Rather low in tone the landscape serves 
as a foil for the evening sky, subdued but suggestive 
in color, with indwelling though suppressed radiance, 
and the sense of infinite expanse. In the smaller can- 
vas the artist has expressed the beauty and immensity 
of heaven toa greater degree than in the pictures of 
larger area. The touch is delicate and fluid, the pig- 
ment more related to the brush than the palette knife. 
But with the transition to the higher key of the final 
period the sunset subject was discontinued although 
it still remains the most popular phase of Murphy’s 
art. 

In the final period Murphy attains his ultimate ex: 
pression, the result of a gradual development toward 
the personal symbol. The more graphic and descrip- 
tive character of his work is entirely sacrificed, the 
ingratiating and colorful mood of the middle period is 
seldom repeated, everything is eliminated which was 
not a part of the essential spirit. His pictures attain 
the maximum degree of unity. Within the most 
simple pictorial composition he has created thesymbol 
of freedom and expanse. It is the final statement of 
the release from the formal and acquired, the cared for 
and the elegant. Free, oh painter, to dwell upon the 
tumbled down, to indulge thy fancy for the pictur- 


33 


esque, free from the restraint of aristocratic demand 
and parlor prestige. Thou hast run away to fields 
forlorn, wistful in thy gazing onwards and upwards. 
It is the ultimate freedom, soon to be soaring in this 
air, and soon to be followed by the reaction toward 
form. 

A vision finally fulfilled, complete, never to be rez 
peated, unique. Devoid of the aesthetic exhilaration 
of design, entirely unconscious of entertaining brush 
work, without ornamental prettiness or captivating 
realization, the picturesof the final period pulsatewith 
vibrant and contagious spirit. Opposed to flat brush- 
work and that directness which consciously parades 
endeavor, the painted surface is everywhere animat- 
ed and living. 

In the aggregate the pictures of this period portray 
a single type of landscape, and reveal to the fullest ex- 
tent the final expression of the painter. When the 
storm and stress of changing seasons has passed and 
the colorful contrasts of October are followed by the 
tranquil atmosphere of Indian summer, Murphy sees 
in landscape the response of hisownsoul. The heavy 
masses of trees in foliage, the dark silhouette, the 
rounded forms are followed by the ephemeral inter- 
lacing of leafless trees, when delicate branches fade 
in moisture laden skies and scattered leaves patternin 
the brush. The earth is dry and sere, the last touches 
of living green have perished, the landscape is bathed 
in fast fading light. 


34 


‘Ay, thou art welcome, heaven’s delicious 
breath, 

When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf, 

And suns grow meek, and the meek suns 
orow brief, 

And the year smiles as it draws near itsdeath. 

Wind of the sunny south oh, still delay 

In the gay wood and in the golden air, 

Like to a good old age released from care, 

Journeying, in long serenity, away.” 


Titles cannot suggest this landscape. A few de: 
scriptive words sufhced for many variations and the 
same title is often repeated, indicative of the season or 
time of day. The associative idea is so enveloped in 
the predominant mood that it transcends the limi- 
tation of place. Everything is still, a house alone or 
uninhabited, a distant barn; no cattle graze upon the 
fields, at most, perhaps, a touch of smoke only, telling 
of the presence of man or fallen tree forlorn. No sign 
of distant country, expectant, beyond; unending the 
horizon. In the stillness, perhaps the little things of 
earth give forth sentient vibration and the poet pene: 
trates the secret. 

In comparison with the earlier pictures the key is 
heightened and the range of values dimished. The 
chiaroscuro and the concentration of light at the focal 
point, so characteristic of the earlier work, is replaced 
byan evennessof lighting andadiffused radiance. The 
atmospheric envelopment is carried to the highest 


35 


degree of unity consistent with subtle variation. The 
oneness of effect is expressed without focal concentra- 
tion and the emphasis is given more by the decisive 
accent than descriptive detail. Thus thereisacertain 
concentration of the vision produced more by the ar- 
rangement of mass and the calculated spotting of fore- 
ground objects than by the more photographic tight- 
ening of the focus by means of defining detail. This 
gives that largeness of view, the feeling of expanse, of 
heightandbreadthanddepth. Theformisevery where 
merely suggestive and entirely related to the mass. 
This extreme generalization is particularly consistent 
with the autumn season when the softness of the half 
tone is more apparent than the fullness of the form. 
Murphy’s temperament merges with the theme and 

the theme is himself. Realistic in the larger attributes 
of earth and sky, he, nevertheless, by means of selecz 
tion and preferment, makes the landscape conform to 
his own sensibility. Posing in the homely association 
of environment and the realistic objects of neglected 
and lowlylife, the subjective element of Murphy’s art 
is truly idealistic. Familiar in the casual rendering of 
the elemental details of earth, his expression is, not: 
withstanding, abstractand transcendental. Histheme 
in the ultimate sense is the unity of man with the unz 
known. His pictures express a continual seeking for 
the eternal. Change abruptly from an early example 
in which the objective interest is uppermost to the 
later expression and we will see at once the quest of 
the universal. The purely objective world of form did 


36 


not have a great interest for our painter; he finds in 
his simple compositional subject material enough for 
improvisation, and he plays upon its variations the 
eternal theme of yearning for unity. He reflects little 
of his actual environment except the light, the tone, 
and the effect of atmosphere, and uses his simple store 
of the objective world to reflect his subjective nature. 
Symbols all: a rail fence has served as well as an arz 
bor, a barn as well asacastle, and weeds as well as 
flowers. We are not deceived by thy homely attri- 
butes, oh painter of the fields. Underneath the fallen 
log is thy living spirit; beneath thy gruff manner the 
shy and sensitive child. 

The drawing comes to be merely the most sum- 
mary indication. The brush is used with the lightest 
touch suggesting only the leading line and accenting 
the essential characteristics. The solid structure of 
the earth is rendered more by the heavy texture of 
underpainting than added detail, which in the later 
works assumes something of amannerism. The near 
by pool so frequently used is a means of bringing the 
cool note of the sky down to earth, thus giving an em- 
phatic contrast revealing the solidity of the ground, a 
pictorial device which Murphy learned from Wyant. 
The fallen tree, the corded wood and simple objects 
of interest are used for the more important effect of 
directing the eye to the distance or emphasizing the 
pictorial rhythm. The edge of the woods breaks the 
horizon and gives a background against which grace- 
ful trees are relieved. This simple and often repeated 


37 


motif suffices as the scaffolding for the tone and the 
quality of the pigment which is the true medium of 
expression. Therefracted edge, the quickened accent, 
the utmost simplicity of form, the absolute relation of 
values gives to the picture a very unusual carrying 
power. Delicate, soft and ephemeral, enveloped in 
an atmospheric ensemble, Murphy's pictures never- 
theless reveal the bulk and weight of earth, the grad- 
ual recession of the ground, the definite character of 
trees, the ethereal quality of sky, and bring out the deli: 
cate nuance with its own particular significance in 
quite as telling a manner as the more striking objects 
in the composition. It is this subtle sense of relativity 
which gives an extraordinary force to the most deli- 
cate theme. His pictures have, i in aword, the carrying 
power of nature. Like the singing quality of violins 
when properly attuned, quite as telling as the more 
blatant sounds of brass. 

Theperiodin which Murphy’s finest pictures were 
produced is between 1901 and 1916. Within that 
time his message was fully consummated. In the last 
few years of his life the tone is not so sensitive, and the 
repeated quest of quality and unity resulted in a gen- 
eralization inclining toward vacancy. His interest 
came to be finally in the light itself, the undescribable 
and subtle beauty of color as one sees it in November 
looking from the shade of a window outwards, when 
the variation of hue is so closely related toa predomi: 
nant tone, producing a vibrant delicacy really tran- 
scending the limitations of mere paint. 


38 


theless reveal the bulk at 3 ne she | 
ual recession of the grows hed nite ¢ 
chee” nuance wis its own particu 
quite as telling a manner as he th S 
in the composition. Itis this st ve" 
which gives an aseesr | ol 
cate thebiveced gitkasclanits ch woekag 
st oer 
se pene snl 29 gq 
blatant sounds of brass. 
The periodin which Mutphy'ei ni 
produced is between rgor and i . 
time his message was fully consus 
few years of his life the tone is notsosem 
repeated quest of quality pearhre sul 
eralization inclining toward ¥ cye 
came to be finally in the light esl e 
and subtle beauty of color as one sees 1 ir 
looking from the shade of a-wir low culty 
the variation of hue is so closely vel ited t 
nant tone, producing a vibrant deli¢s 
_scending the limitations of mene pai 


36 


In 1904 we have the October Day. In this one pic- 
ture the painter seems to have told his simple story in 
the most compelling and definitive manner. It is one 
of the most perfect examples of Murphy’s brush. The 
masterpiece of a life of continuous striving for the ful- 
fillment of a single idea. The photographer can mere 
ly suggest the subject. Its great beauty lies in the tonal 
envelopment combined with the perfect harmonizaz 
tion of subject with sentiment. There is a supreme 
poise in this picture that seems almost the embodiment 
of faith; a serene stillness the symbol of contemplative 
contentment; an expectant hush indicative of the un- 
known beyond. It is more than a landscape, and yet 
how simple and homely in its theme. How signifi 
cant the rail fence, whatacompelling accent, how tell: 
ing the fallen leaves; how subtly varied the simple 
silhouette. We get more than a sensuous exhilara- 
tion, more than a skillful description of a place and 
yet strangely this picture seems the veritable proto- 
type of all such places. | 

In the Gray Day oftg08 the color scheme is in varia- 
tions of closely harmonized tones. The textures play 
an important part in the structural solidity. The hand- 
ling is vivacious and emphatic. Simple in composition- 
al scheme there is a happy relation of the action of the 
trees with the movement of the clouds. The termina: 
tionof leaf and branch is suggestive of the mannerism 
of Corot. The impulse of the picture and the rhythm 
has something in it of the changing weather which it 
describes. 


bbe. 


In the Grove and Field of 1912 we feel the utmost 
evanescence and suggestive charm combined with the 
rugged and barren solidity of earth; the sense ofethere- 
al expanse combined with the newness of trees and 
scattered wood. How well the vision is focused with- 
out any tightening of the brush or added detail; how 
perfectly the refracted edge is suggested rather than 
seen; always the quickened emphasis where the 
rhythm requires it, and the softened termination 
where the formis lost. The homely details ofearthand 
sky are made secretly to function in a purely abstract 
design, and the significance of relativity is highly 
sensed. 

Murphy seldom composed within the square pro- 
portion; the composition is always dictated by the ho- 
rizon; the division of areas given by the simple upright 
screen of woods. This favorite motif is most happily 
rendered in the Russet Season of 1915. Onacanvas in 
the proportion of two by three the horizon breaks well 
below the center, giving the sense of heavenly ex- 
panse; the border of trees on the left forms a graceful 
contour, made more effective by the slender upright 
tree and the decided horizontal contrast of fallen logs, 
emphatically punctuated by the woodman’s axe. A 
meadow brook leads from the foreground in a curve 
echoing the line of trees and directing the eye to the 
distance; an old barn breaks the horizon on the right, 
the angular gable of which adds a telling form reveal- 
ing by contrast the suggested expanse of distance. 
Thuswe note that Murphy balances thesoftened form 


40 


by the decisive contrast and although the effect is deli- 
cate it is never sentimentally sweet or vapid. This il- 
lustrates thefundamental traitof Murphy's character, 
that happy marriage of masculine virility with passive 
feminine charm. Wehave, too, that splendid sense of 
relativity, the solidity of earth gives ethereal quality 
to the sky; the softened edge of foliage adds vitality to 
the tree trunk that sustains it; the gradually receding 
plane gives added significance to the dome of heaven; 
the curved line is balanced by the angular; the em- 
phatic accent keeps the softened form from being over 
vaporous. Representing the typical aspect of familiar 
landscape the composition is nevertheless arranged 
withmost exacting and understanding care, thevaried 
forms are definitely related to a carefully organized 
unity. In the unimportant examples one may tire of 
the repeated and calculated devices of picture making, 
inthe inspired canvases like the Russet Seasononefeels 
their inevitable necessity. 

At times, too, we feel merely the arbitrary arrange: 
mentof a clump of trees poised on the left of the can- 
vas against a barren horizon; charming in tone and 
typical in manner, yet only by way of being another 
picture. One is over conscious of the technical man- 
nerism, the methodical underpainting, the pool so 
apparently placed, the corded wood, the sinewy trees 
and the stereotyped devices of the Murphy style. But 
oneis greatly rewarded by the inspired examples, en- 
velopedin mood and mirrored inthe heartofthe artist. 
So the Autumn Evening with its sense of inevitable 


AI 


reality; The Autumnal with the surge of significant 
and symbolical line; the Hills and Fields so completely 
characteristic of our eastern country or the Grove and 
Field in which one is imbued with the mood of the art: 
ist and lives in the indwelling spirit of the landscape. 
So Murphy reclaims and proclaims himself. 


PART THREE 


| Op acanie expression has acontent, aconception and 
a means of projecting it. The content belongs more 
to the age than the individual. It is the leaven, un- 
formed; the group thought. The conception is conz 
cerned with the personal endeavor to give the vague 
yearning and passing emotion a definite and lasting 
form. The method of expression belongs tothe craft to 
which the individual adds his personal technique. 

The most characteristic trait of an artist isoftenthat 
of which he is most unconscious. Knowledge acquired 
by force of will and intellect is too dearly bought 
to be forgotten; but that which is innate is too near to 
be recognized. As one is so much a part of ones own 
time that itscharacteristics cannot be justly estimated, 
so that which is a part of ones natures not objectively 
measured. Likewise it is only in historical retrospect 
that one can gain a comparative ideaof the significance 
and import of the works of a given time or of an indi- 
vidual artist who is a part of it. 

The content of Murphy’s art is a part of his epoch. 
It is the outgrowth of the reaction from the artificial 
and the unnatural which finds its first utterance in the 


42 


later part of the eighteenth century resulting in the 
political upheaval of revolution. Itis likewise areturn 
to the traditions of the North as distinguished from the 
classical traditions of the South. 

In a time which produced the noble and the prelate, 
and looked consciously to a higher order, we cannot 
conceive of the reproduction of the lowly, of the mood 
engendered by melancholy and introspection. In an 
age of liveries and lackeys we must likewise look for 
ostentation and display. The red velour belongs to the 
gilded chair and the lace which adorns my lady who 
sits thereon. When the court plays at pastorals the 
ground is no longer made of common clay, but like a 
theatre wherein gallants play a part, is made of scent- 
ed greensward and patterned for the play. Unwel- 
come dreaded guest, the reality of self! Oh terrible 
time when gay lords must reckon with reality. Fate- 
ful time when the artificial is overthrown with blood. 

In painting, this awakening of the individual spirit 
severs the servile tradition with the past. It is related 
to the change of patronage, from the desire of the aris- 
tocracy and their followers for the elegant and decora- 
tive, the echo of the classical and the artificiality of 
historical associations, tothe aspirationand realization 
of the individual. It isthe natural manifestation of the 
yearning forthetrue andsignificant, the living impulse 
as distinguished from the effete repetition of false or 
empty conceptions. Itis a direct return to nature: self 
seeking. 

In England Constable is the true father of modern 


43 


landscape painting, amassing a wealth of material 
gathered from personal impression and observation 
and finding his fee emeinhis everyday world. InFrance 
Theodore Rousseau restores the northern tradition, 
holds nature asa sacred example and derives his forms 
therefrom. Corot reanimates the rhythms of Claude, 
but bringsthem nearer earth; while Millet sees his sub- 
jects in their natural environment unrelieved by the 
play pastoral of his predecessors. 

Thedirect influence of these masters comes to New 
York in the seventies where sentiment has been atz 
tuned by forces similar to the old countries and where 
the receptive spirit is intuitively awakened. Inness, 
dissatisfied with the more superficial accessories of 
picture making, has felt the appeal of kindred souls 
and sees in nature other visions than those of artificiz 
ally fashioned landscape. Wyant comes to realize the 
significance of simplified forms and the emotional 
power engendered by their expressive relation. 

In literature Jean Jacques Rousseau heralds the rez 
turn to nature; Chateaubriand seeks romance in the 
wild, SERGE VER ove} remote, and restores the gothic 
tradition of the North. Outward glitter and display 
_ gives place to brooding melancholy and sentimental 

introspection. In England Shelley dreams of the spirit 
freed of convention and Wordsworth imbues nature 
with a soul and enters into communion therewith. 
In America we echo the foreign urge. Thoreau is the 
most pronounced embodiment of individualism and 
self independence. Heisnourished on nature and lives 


44 


in harmony with her ways and moods; Whitman 
more egoistic lounges passively tothe earth song. The 
lowly, the uncultivated, the natural, the common, the 
ordinary, find in mana sympathetic and intimate rez 
sponse. Art in short becomes democratized. The 
subject changes from the elegant and artificial, remi- 
niscences of past glory and high estate, addressed to 
the cultured and luxurious, to the more humble and 
less extravagant theme derived from personal experi- 
ence and individual reaction. 

It is not merely an artistic caprice that painters 
come to like the tumbled down, the weeds and marshz- 
es, the unkempt fields, the wayward path. Signs not 
merely ofthe picturesque but of that deep revoltofman 
from the tyranny of oppressive form, and theyearning 
for reality in the simple and unadorned. It is not by 
chance, then, that Murphy instinctively portrays the 
lonely expanse of waste fields and uncultivated lands, 
or drawswith loving care the weeds and flowers of the 
fields; not merely the sentimental picture maker who 
watches the brooding sky or seeks beauty in the fad- 
ing light of day. Fields, the homely waywardness of 
the fields, their naturalness and simplicity, the un- 
affected beauty ofthefields. Thecommon earth, moth- 
er of all things. Thesky, not mounting zenithward in 
splendor, but always beyond, hovering friendly over 
the horizon. Earth and sky. 

This, the content of all that Murphy painted, is his 
instinctive inheritance. Not the sumptuous form of 
opulent trees, joyous sunshine and blue sky, or the 


45 


splendor of flowered fields; no lure of that earthly par: 
adise wherein-mandreamsinverduredvales and flowz 
ingrivers windtheir way; butlow, unattendedstretch- 
es, sered woods or barren hills. Gray melancholy, 
alone. Murphy seesno unfriendlinessin solitude; there 
are voices in the silence, whisperings in evanescent 
twilight, communion with earth spirit and self com- 
munion. The sentiment is not bitter, or morose. It 
is blithe and enchanting. No hint of impending ca-z 
tastrophe, no suggestion of the dramatic, but an aerie 
melancholy fond ofits own musing. Earth is not mere- 
ly the place of human toil, of livelihood and hardened 
lives; man has left the fields his day’s work done. Naz 
ture has its own life, its own reverie. 

This simple landscape, bare of outer show, is en- 
veloped in the glamour of golden light. This is the se- 
cretof that magicalcharm whichtransformstheharsh- 
ness of earth, bathes the sky with indwelling radiance 
and imbues the picture with spiritual significance. 
The simplest aspect of nature has become the medium 
of revealing the mood of man. The expression is 
purely suggestive; the manifestation butamood sym- 

ol. 

The evolution of Murphy’s art is in revealing this 
sentiment freed from irrelevant and unrelated matter. 
The pictorial theme is reduced to the simplest struc- 
ture. The ingratiating accompaniments of picture 
making are sacrificed until the mood stands revealed 
in its ultimate purity. The theme is completed. Be- 
yond is merely aérial vacancy. The paintercan gono 


46 


16 inches high, 22 inches wide. — 
lower right, “J. Francis Murphy 1908.” ger 


‘ < r S 


en 
’ 


musfion. The sentiment 1s Re Bs 
tastrc ms no sug $gestion of the d 


nelancholy fond ofits own mins 


ture has its own life. its own rever | 


and imbues the picture with. sp 


ndor of flowered fields: rem 
lise wherein mandrea WS dicts 
ivers windtheirway; but own pHatte 
d woods or barren 
Murphy s¢esno ur 
‘e voices in the silence 
ght, commumon w ith eaetis He = 


ignite, 


yl he and nich anting. No ® 


hae place of human toil, othe eli 


ian has left she Gelds alee ‘ 


Lis singgle EAR ARCARE » ett Ss “eee 
BLO tS ed ame a ; 
etotthatm agicalcharm eka was 


of earth, bathes the sky within ; 


sim iplest as pect of nature has be nee 
fn re ing the mood of | ae & 
purely su niggas stive; the manifestation” 
“ae ‘4 | 
| The pom of Murphy’s ar 
sentiment reed fom irelevantan an 
The pictorial theme is reduc e | 
ture. The ingratiating” accom 
making are sacrificed nti d the snoc 
in its ultimate purity. The # € . 
yond is merely aérial vacaney 


' 


farther; his single idea is consummated. With the 
simplest pictorial material, the most humble theme, 
Murphy creates a picture of transcendent charm. 

The content of Murphy’s art is, however, in no 
way unique. It was the common property of his 
epoch. He has given no new ideaor subject matter; he 
has invented no new design or aesthetic innovation; 
his color awakens no new sensation; he has erected no 
architectonic scaffolding on which others might build. 
His work is not intellectual. He has stamped his per: 
sonality on the surface, in the patina, the characteristic 
touch, the tone sequence and atmospheric envelopz- 
ment. His expression depends upon the nice relation 
of harmonious tones and tender gradation within a 
well-balanced compositional theme, imbued with ex- 
quisite sensibility and expressive feeling, essentially 
tranquil and serene, wistful and melancholy. 

It will be seen, therefore, that Murphy’s artis more 
personal than original, more expressive than creative. 
For we must distinguish between personal feeling and 
that more highly synthesized and creative projection 
which transcends the sensuous impression; between 
the personal emotion and the impersonal conception. 
Gradation, envelopment, and tone sequence, apart 
from representative form, is perhaps the most allur- 
ing and ingratiating element in modern painting. 
Although feelingly expressive, it is hardly related to 
the sheer creation of form, the architectonic design of 
the great masters. It is analogous to the gradation of 
sound in modern orchestration, the use of crescendo 


ai 


and diminuendo, so emotionally compelling and yet 
often so constructively vacant. 

This personal feeling, expressed in tonal relation 
and enveloped in atmospheric ensemble, is most comz- 
pletely rendered within the simplest design. It does 
not allow of strong structural form, of interrelated 
solids or rhythmic action. Thus we see only two 
fundamental planes in Murphy’s pictures: the earth 
flat and receding, the sky upright, and the foil of bare 
trees giving a simple angular contrast. The perspec: 
tive vanishes in thin cloud veils, always beyond, in- 
definite, symbol of the unknown. The form is never 
absolute, never fully defined, always suggestive. This 
suggestion becomes not merely a technical manner- 
ism, but a language in itself, the very means of avoid: 
ing the final and decisive, the symbol of uncertainty. 
Forms do not come outward indicating circular vol- 
umes, but always recede. The scattered wood, the 
fallentree, the stonefence point always to thedistance; 
the edge of the woods merely emphasizes the horizon. 
The typeof sky is invariably chosen with the light be- 
yond, diffused and never apparent. No indication 
ever of the blue dome of heaven, colored roof of the 
world; no rounded clouds sailing over heaven's seas in 
wave-like motion. Silence, solitude, serenity. A soul 
bathed in uncertainty, waiting. 

The pictorial conception is extremely simple. It is 
little more than anice relation of horizontal and verti 
cal within a given space. The proportion is oblong; 
the horizon just below the center of the canvas. The 


48 


composition is invariably static. There is little inven- 
tion in design. The rhythm is rendered more by gra: 
dation or variation of light and dark than by line. The 
interest is in the middle ground or distant sky. The 
curve or the rounded form plays no part in the con- 
ception. The compositional content verges upon the 
vague and anemic. Itis held together only by thetone 
sequence. In this sense Murphy repeats the style of his 
predecessors. It is the inheritance from the lowlands 
of Holland in which the horizon forms sucha conspicz 
uous part. Itis continued by Rousseauand the painters 
of Barbizon and followed by Inness and Wyant. 
There is a profound psychological index in the aes- 
thetic use of form and line, the unconscious record of 
the spiritual sensibility ofa given time, far more potent 
in itsrevelation of mankind then the more patent facts 
of history. There is little variation of the dominant 
structural scheme in nineteenth-century landscape 
art, and it denotes a certain passivity rather than ani- 
mated activity. Constable’s conception of the volume 
of form is seldom repeated, except perhaps by the 
virile Courbet, and the static theme based upon the 
horizontal remains the predominant pictorial idea of 
nineteenth-century landscape painting. It is natural 
therefore that Murphy should repeat this traditional 
form for his was a passive rather than an active nas 
ture. Sentimentally it was a recollection of boyhood 
days in the middle states, but for one who passed the 
last half of life in a mountainous country in which 
the flat horizon is absent and the curved line and full- 


ay 


ness of form is everywhere apparent, this static tend- 
ency was far more deeply rooted in his nature than 
sentimental recollection. His apparent likes and dis: 
likes show this personal limitation, whichif you will 
is the making of personal character. Certainly a pro- 
nounced limitation gives a definite direction to mani- 
festion, as we may note in many of Murphy’s con- 
temporaries. Murphy disliked the sturdy fullness, the 
rotund majesty of the oak tree, and the fir seldom fig- 
ures in his pictures. The apparent or obvious form 
was not sympathetic. He loved the slender trees that 
one sees on the edge of a clearing, the second growth 
that follows where nobler trees have fallen; or young: 
er shoots that feed by wayside pools untroubled by the 
farmer. Here we have an index of Murphy’s nature 
far more accurate than biographical chronicle. It is 
the delicate, the tranquil, the serene with which heis 
spiritually associated. He loved the marsh and the 
tender things that grow therefrom more than the 
trees, for he was deeply knowing of the little things 
of nature. He was on good terms with nature as he 
was with man and was closely drawn to the inner 
nature of life. 


PART FOUR 


URPHY was not a colorist in the full sense of 
the term. His color is related to values and his 
values to light. He was therefore more truly a tona-z 
list than a colorist. He worked within a very limited 
range of related hues and produced the effect more 


50 


values to light. He was rer more, 
list than a colorist. He worked withing 
tange of related hues and produced the 


ness of ra is elehe spgcene 
ency was far more deeply rooned. 
sentimental recollection. His a 
likes show this ersonal ates 
is the making - 

nounced limitation gives a defi . a 
festion, as we may note named a ft 
temporaries. Murphy disliked the stu f 
rotund majesty of the oak tree, and the fiz 
ures in his pictures. The apparent or abe 
was not sympathetic. He loved the 

one sees on the edgé of a clearing, the sec 
that follows where nobler reeshave 
er shoots that feed by wayside} OX O 
farmer, Heretio ne, 6Lagae uenee i ~ utph 
far more atiteiee’ th NIE, TRIE eration tame: 
the deft So the tran (pur the seven 
spiritually associated. He loved d 
tender things that grow therefre 
trees, for he was deeply a 
of nature. He was on good terms: 
was with man and was ass 
nature of life. 


si a a 


| PART FOUR 


AURPHY was not a colada’ 
the term. His color is relate 


Re 


Pet PP a PR cae 
Nedieg eae “hae 


with harmonic variations than contrasts. The typical 
color scheme of Murphy is based as much upon its rez 
lation to the gold frame as uponits more realistic attri: 
butes and he created the tonal quality largely by the 
frame as a point of departure. His pictures are not 
conceivable apart from the gold background. This 
determined the key of the picture. 

A study of the palette reveals the fact that the re- 
lation of the natural pigments of the warm scale 
forms a sequence both of value and hue but of a simi- 
lar degree of intensity. We note the harmonic rela- 
tion of the earth and mineral colors, from yellow ochz 
te, gold ochre, raw sienna to burnt sienna, and from 
the warmer light red through venetian to indian red. 
Whereas if we turn directly to the cool side of the pal- 
ette we see immediately that the colors are of a deep 
value and limited in number. Murphy was conscious 
of this fact, as the setting of his palette indicates, and 
his color scheme is based upon the natural attributes 
of the earth pigments. We do not recollect a positive 
blue, purple or green in any of his pictures. The cool 
note was attained primarily by its relation to the pre- 
dominant warm hue and hardly ever transcended a 
gray. The admixture of white imparted a cool hue to 
the color and likewise rendered the more opaque at- 
mospheric quality of thesky. Murphy did not experi- 
ment with the full gamut of the palette either in hue 
or value, but he had a very subtle appreciation of 
the intrinsic relation of a given color to its value and 
did not over darken or lighten it to reduce its nature. 


51 


Thus he worked in the normal scheme of the pigment 
itself and did not strain its possibilities. In the science 
of the palette we may say that he worked entirely 
within the middle register both in value and intensi- 
ty and that the range of both is limited to stress rela- 
tion rather than contrast. 

This will explain why Murphy was more success- 
ful in his pictures of autumn than of spring. In the lat- 
ter the green is related to the gold of the frame by 
graying it to the same degree of neutrality and raising 
itin value by meansof white. Butit will be seen that 
the natural range of this hue is limited. It cannot go 
toward blue without becoming appreciably darker 
unless raised by white, and it cannot go far in the sez 
quence of yellow without losing its character or bez 
coming more intense by the intermixture of a brilliant 
yellow and thus losing its approximation to the neu- 
trality of the gold ofthe frame. As Murphy produced 
his effect by subtle variations in value he had to light- 
en the green with white and thus lost that more trans: 
parent and richer quality of the warmer colors and 
their natural variations. Murphy did not use compliz 
mentary contrast and his pictures in green are there- 
fore reduced to almost a monotone. 

Murphy’s method of painting was purely personal, 
the outcome of that intangible and evanescent mood 
which cannot be rendered by the more direct and ob- 
vious means of painting. His aim was to conceal the 
means entirely so that the brush strokes and the maz 
terial devices of manipulation would not be apparent. 


52 


ty wad i ie range bi sited to 
tion rather than contrast. 
;, s mot 
eh (onan 
graying it to the same degree of ne 
itin value by means PY Mes Butit 
the natural range of this hue is! 
‘toward blue without bec “app 
unless raised by webtina cmt — 
5 beans > yan dai 


yellow and t ginrey & ap = oximat 
trality of the gold of the frame, Aan 
his effect by subtle variations inv 
en the green with white and thus lost 
parent and richer quality of rise } 
their natural variations. Murphy ot 
mentary contrast and his pictures in ; ag 3 
fore reduced to almost a monotone. 
' Murphy’s method of pers w. ait tt 
the outcome of that intan and 1 
which cannot be nly them re) 
vious means of painting. His eu ve to 
means entirely so that the bette | ny Kes 
terial devices of manipulation would net 


ee 


pie PELL 


LmZ 


a 
wee 


My 
on 


Dexterous, skilled and decisive, his painting never 
parades itself; facile, subtle and rhythmatic his brush 
does not separate itself from the totality of effect. The 
technic is engendered by the mood and intimately re: 
lated to the feeling to be expressed. The man and his 
work are inseparable. 

Murphy was not a brushman in the painter’s mean- 
ing of that term. He did not paint directly la premier 
coup; nor did he use a sketch to work from in the 
studio. The direct study from nature was made with 
pencil notes, in later life mere summary indications 
hastily rendered on some stray piece of paper or en- 
velope. His subjects were not definite transcripts of 
particular places; his impression was formed largely 
by random observation and later synthesized to con: 
vey merely a general type of landscape. The color 
combines fullness of tone with transparency and an 
indescribable pigment quality beautiful in itself. To ef: 
fect this result the canvas was first carefully prepared 
with an underpainting which was applied with a stiff 
heavy pigment in the predominant hues of the given 
theme, generally in variations of goldand brown. The 
palette knife flattened the pigment, thus imparting the 
maximum power of reflection without the small shad- 
ows caused by the interstices of the brush and creat: 
ing a pigment texture suggestive of the bulk and 
weight of earth and the aérial softness of sky. This 
was allowed to dry over a period of several months. 
When thoroughly hardened the pigment was pum- 


iced or smoothed, forming a solid, lacquer-like surface. 


Da 


Meantime the canvas with its variations of texture 
and hue became suggestive of the theme. When the 
moment of painting arrived the conception was fully 
formed. 

In the second painting the pigment was brushed 
very thinly intermixed with sicikatif de Harlem al- 
lowing the underpainting to partly show through. 
The picture was continued while the paint was still 
wet, but if the result was not satisfactory the surface 
was scraped and with rags and turpentine the fresh 
paint entirely removed and the canvas restored to its 
first underpainting to await anew adventure. This 
method permits of the utmost freedom of suggestion 
in brushing and explains the lightness of touch and 
dexterous improvisation so happily combined with 
solidity and texture, and tells, too, how the pigment 
quality is attained without the laboured effect of rez 
peated overpainting. The thin, cool overpainting also 
adds that particular atmospheric effect so character- 
istic of Murphy’s landscape. In the pictures of the 
middle period, which are darker in value, there is con- 
siderable transparent glazing to produce depth of hue, 
and also the suggested half tones of branches against 
the sky or tangled underbrush. The touch in the 
final painting is liquid, living and inimitable. No ele- 
ment of his work is more characteristic of the painter's 
personality. 

Thus Murphy combines the most deliberate ccs 
matic composition with the accidentals of a dexterous 
technic, the most casual and summary handling over 


54 


a carefully prepared ground and unites the lightness 
and freedom of instinctive improvisation with a cal: 
culated pigment quality. This gives that indefinable 
charm to his work in which the ultimate is enveloped 
in the ephemeral. 


PART FIVE 


PICTURE is so much paint and material matter 
merely, until it is quickened by the comprehen- 
sion. Brought into being by the idea of its creator, it is 
reanimated only when that idea finds a sympathetic 
response. The true significance, therefore, of an art: 
ist’s work is the living reaction of the beholder. Asin 
so many mirrors, the idea becomes reflected and lives 
again. There can be no didactic or single judgment, 
no arbitrary measure or standard. It ismanifestly unz 
fair and irrelevant to measure the intention of one art 
ist by the different conception of another. The final 
import of Murphy’s achievement exists, therefore, in 
the individual minds of those who have beheld his pic- 
tures. Living for those who find a significance therein, 
dead for those to whom it is dead. 

Lacking all sumptuous form and sensuous exhilira- 
tion, devoid of ornamental prettiness and stylistic ele- 
gance, it is surprising that his pictures should appeal 
so truly to the average man. There is a deep signifi- 
cance in the love of Murphy’s art far more profound 
than the conscious realization of their producer, a sig- 
nificance most truly sensed by the unsophisticated. It 
is an indication of the spirit of a time far removed from 


99 


the superficial surface of outward activity, a spirit in- 
dicative of the yearning for the simple and unaffected, 
the homely and natural. The merchant, the money 
changer in the market, chained to the demands of the 
machine, restless, worried and nervous, looks wistz- 
fully at the expanse of earth and sky, the unadorned 
and selfzkeeping fields, free from care. Surrounded by 
luxury and artificial glamour with desires measured 
by dollars, wound up, clock like, kept going, the man 
in his city cage feels unconsciously the simple spirit of 
the lover of weeds, of earth and sky, and shares his 
reverie, less alone than in the presence of nature. For 
nature is merely a symbol to man. This creator of 
fields and sky has placed a symbol upon walls of gold, 
a symbol strangely in contrast to its environment. 
Not merely a window looking upon the fields of na- 
ture, it is the expression of one who finds tranquility 
and contentmentin solitude. No mere slice of nature 
this, but a symbol of serenity and silence, of happy 
days with nature communing. 

It is doubtful whether the farmer would be enticed 
by this landscape. He would find the fields neglected, 
the fences broken, the land undrained, the trees not 
worth cutting. He would see no fertility or means of 
livelihood therefrom. Your merchant would at once 
improve these fields, or fence around an estate, sepa- 
rate and apart, costly in its upkeep, of lawn and gar- 
den and artificial fancies. Alone with nature your 
office man would be but alone. Yet unwittingly he 
loves this soul who has found some glimpse of freedom 


56 


an, 


JSSET SEASON _ 
, 24 inches high, 36 inches wide. 

| lower left, “J. Francis Murphy 1915.” 
Mr. Amos F. Prescott, New York. 


E SUrtace Of ¢ arabe ; ty, a am 


Vicative oft cise + eat nine fe wT 
- Lad 

eal nck madre. F 

Ene Tats THAT A «= S 


hanger in the market, oba 
lacnine. re st tess, wore d res 4 
| ly at the exp: se of eareh anil oh 
and sé i . k eepil & tre solide f ‘ee ER = ’ 


a 
iry and art icsa ee APE 


rdallars. wou come 

re ATS, WOOL othe a. k ies 
'} ati Cc it ity cage feels i a wise / &. 
ti er of weeds, of earth and sl cy 
reverie, less alone than in the pres 


nature is merely a symbol to maz 

pas { 

elds and sky has placed a sym ot ‘ 
symbol str angely Oe kteiks eeu 


Not mer el ya ara taint 
a Ds gets 2ionerd .|'73 tol Reh 
rane, ic URGE Sac A wilh Med 
un af content ment if sol itude, } oe " ' 
this, but a symbol of aa 
days with nature ne 
It is doubtful whether the & 
by this landscape. He would fi 
the fences broken, the land srs a 
worth cutting. He would seemed 
livelihood therefrom. Your enanaiia 
improve these fields, or fence same 
rate and apart, costly in ite up cae 
den and artificial fancies. An 
office man would be but a 
lowes thas soul niahenkeiatal 


a) 
- 


and tranquility, and aspires not to the confines of an 
estate. 

Worth more than the land it portrays, the treas- 
ure is negotiated in. The estimate of the man is meas- 
ured by dollars. Beware! oh trader in the market 
place, with too much handling the vision may vanish. 

It is rather to easy to dismiss Murphy’s art as being 
merely an echo of the Barbizon school. In fact this is 
to miss its significance entirely. Certain appended 
details, of the early work in particular, the ornament 
of picture making, are certainly derived from French 
sources. But the indwelling sentiment, if it relate to 
the French school at all, is precisely the thing that the 
French borrowed from the English and is in no sense 
typically French. It is likewise due to the popular 
mode of generalizing or grouping the masters referred 
to under the generic title of a locality and thus uniting 
men entirely disparate in purpose and sentiment. For 
it would be difficult to name three contemporaries 
more different in nature than Rousseau, Millet and 
Corot. If we would seek for origin it would be more 
appropriate to do so relative to the derivation of senti- 
ment, and this we should say is more truly English 
than French and more Irish than English. For Mur- 
phy’s expression reflects the aridity of earth rather 
than its sumptuousness, of poverty rather than boun- 
ty; and reflects, too, not British aristocratic pride but 
a certain lowliness of the Irish. The vision is always 
near the earth. Noechoof opulence, of park or estate, 
no ornamental decoration indicative of conscious care 


57 


or formality, no thrifty husbandry. Nor do we find 
that impeccable mastery of method so characteristic 
of the French, the rationalistic desire to embody the 
idea in absolute form, which with Rousseau, for ex- 
ample, becamea governing passion. Murphy’sarton 
the contrary is essentially suggestive. His fundamen: 
tal method does not permit of the realization or repre- 
sentation of form for itself. It evades the definite and 
precise and renders by means of tone and pigment 
quality, only the illusive and ephemeral. His art is 
therefore more poetical than truly pictorial. 
Murphy’s relation tohis American contemporaries 
was more immediate and also more resourceful. He 
began his artistic career at a time when the romantic 
movement was awakening the interest of the most 
active and sensitive minds, when the reaction against 
the topographical and photographic manner of Dus- 
seldorf and the Hudson River School was already a 
decided force. He was therefore not trained under the 
same traditions as Inness, Wyant or Martin who, it 
must be remembered, were among the most exempz 
lary masters in the style of the older school before the 
awakening of their mature expression. It is apparent 
that both Inness and Wyant had avery appreciable in- 
fluence in the formative period of Murphy’s art. It is 
true that Inness was too temperamental, impulsive 
and comprehensive to effect Murphy permanently. 
With natures so widely disparate there was little 
cause for any lasting spiritual affiliation, but there are 
certain pictures by Inness which gave adefinite focus 


58 


LE TRT OM PIII TB bt MGT RN Set 


i j 


that im re ethod 
of the mney the: ras eras he 
idea in absolute forrn. 
ample, became a governing 
the contrary is essentially s iggestve, Fis hum 
tal method does net of the realizatione 
sentation of form bared! ieevades th ¥ 
precise and renders by means ¢ | 
quality, only the illusive pa: 
therefore more ical than o 
. Murphy's relation tohis 
was more immediate and also mere 
began his artistic canceneacndiane ¥ 2 


movement wabivi Butt SoS ene 
active and sontaert ing oy yah lane rel beans 
the topograp ashicat sad ph HoeSgrap hic an 

- seldontend the Hadce Man School . 
decided force. He was therefore ne 
same traditians as Inness, Wan 
must be remembered, were scell 
lary masters in the style of the older se 
awakening of their mature expres — pe a. 
that both Inness and W yeothad ara 
' fluence in the cine. eine: >t IViGEDE 

true that Inness was toe4 z 
and comprehensive to effect } or 
With natures go oo | 
cause for any lasting sp: 


certain pictures by aula 


to Murphy’s tone and composition, pictures which for 
Inness were but a small part of his versatile and 
profound vision, but which for Murphy were the in- 
troduction to alife-long theme. The personal proxim- 
ity of Wyant at Arkville and the mature power of 
his art at a time when Murphy was still finding him- 
self was the definite cause of asympathetic and more 
lasting influence. Although Wyant was not deeply 
attached to the younger painter, and at times resented 
his presence, there wasa certain limitation in hisown 
nature, and a singleness of endeavor in his painting 
which made him a more appreciable and applicable 
source than the more impetuous and changing char- 
acter of Inness. It is inthe middle period of Murphy’s 
art that we find the most direct influence of Wyant. 
The simplified theme of silhouette in evening light, 
the tone, the restricted palette, reflect the tendency 
of the older painter. Murphy does not seek in experi- 
mental endeavor for other artistic affinities. He seems 
to see his way at once and does not deviate from the 
chosen path. But he has a complete mastery within 
his given limitations and he is a master in clearly rec- 
ognizing them. In this respect Murphy is similar to 
Whistler and strange as it may have seemed to their 
contemporaries, the two artists are in many ways 
closely related. For Murphy, although a rustic in his 
love of country and retirement, is fastidious and care 
ful to the highest degree in his painting. Both masters 
worked within a very limited range, both extreme 
tonalists. Whistler choosing the sequences of gray 


Dg 


and neutral hues, and Murphy working within close- 
ly related russets and browns; both composing with 
the most simple linear design — Whistler giving his 
work something of an oriental flair in decorative pat- 
tern and Murphy insisting always on harmonious 
space relations. We do not mean to stress the com- 
parison, but with natures so different otherwise, their 
pictures when hung together belong at once to the 
same age: vague, suggestive, undefined, mood envel- 
oped. 

Wecannot, however, measure the man according 
to the standards of greatness, without being decidedly 
conscious of his limitations. Certainly, no dynamic 
force let loose upon the surface of the earth. Man is 
given to differ from the earth, insomuch as he is 
changeable; differ from the fixed and static insomuch 
as he lives and finds his true being and active con- 
sciousness in contemplationand flight of intellect;voy- 
aging over the world, daring, adventuring, living in 
the past, the present and the future. Such is more the 
attribute of greatness. Such was a Shakespeare, cre- 
ating the tender lyrical and enchanting music of the 
sonnets, and the stern realities of Lear. So, too, was 
Goethe, sentimental and melancholy in Werther, 
grand and impersonal in his later creation, completely 
estranged from his earlier expression. Or note the 
early work of Turner and compare it to the transcen- 
dental expression of his later life. We live by contrast 
as well as affinity, and the greatness of a character is 
measured largely by its foundations. Thus wesee the 


60 


monumental Michael Angelo, strong set and solid, an 
unfinished pile but imposing, not towering into thin 
air pinnacle like, but lying heavily upon the earth and 
bound by the fetters thereof. Or Beethoven, tramp- 
ing downcast, with the war of unrest unceasing in his 
ears, a dramatic reality surrounded by the tinsel of 

arlor chairs and embroidery. No effete tower, illu: 
sion like vanishing in the sky like the fantasmagoria of 
an oriental trickster. A giant in chains, more like the 
traditional Prometheus, initiated in the secrets of the 
Gods and suffering the penalties therefrom. 

But do we enter into the wistful melancholy of 
man, conscious of his limitations, far from that turbu- 
lent throng beating furously upon the gates of heaven; 
do we stand at evening and watch the passing day as 
the light lingers over yon barren horizon, we thenseek 
consolation and rest and enter more contentedly in- 
to the homely realms of earth and sing with the last 
notes of evening birds, flying lowly in the branches 
and weeds, unaware of the perilous flight of eagles 
overhead. 

The restless ones do wrong to measure the littleness 
of man and become more little in consciously spying 
thereon; not like the great ones constant in upward 
flight nor fouling the earth beneath. For earth has its 
sweetness and weeds and lowly flowers their charm, 
and many a pretty secret is wafted in the air. 


61 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 


J. Francis Murphy—Painter. By Elliott Dainger- 
field. Scribner's Magazine, January, 1917. 

J. Francis Murphy. By R. G. McIntyre. The Mis- 
cellany. Vol.5. No.1. 

J. Francis Murphy; a Master of American Land- 
scape. By Charles L. Buchanan. International Studio. 
July, 1914. 

Notes on the Art of J. Francis Murphy. By Eliot 
Clark. Artin America. April, 1918. 

Miniature Landscapes by J. Francis Murphy. By 
Frederic Fairchild Sherman. ‘‘In American Painters 
of Yesterday and Today.” Illustrated, 1zmo. New 
York, 1919. 

Catalogue of Memorial Exhibition. The Lotus 
Club. November, 1921. Foreword by Seymour de 
Ricci. 

Catalogue of Memorial Exhibition. The Salma- 
gundiClub. November, 1921. Apprecation by James 
B. Carrington. 

Handbook of Loan Exhibition. The Macbeth Galz 
lery. 1921. Foreword by Charles L. Buchanan. 

Justice for J. Francis Murphy. By Charles L. Bu- 
chanan. American Art News. December, 1921. 

Murphy; The Traits of a Man Lately Lost to Our 
School. By Royal Cortissoz. The New York Herald: 
Tribune. February 6, 1921. 


62 


MEDALS AND HONORS 


In 1885 Murphy was awarded the Second Hallgar- 
ten Prize andin r910the Inness Gold Medal by the Na- 
tional Academy of Design; in 1902 the Carnegie Prize, 
Society of American Artists; 1899, Gold Medal, 
Pennsylvania Academy, Philadelphia; 1887, Webb 
Prize, Society American Artists; 1894, Evans Prize, 
American Water Color Society; 1901, Silver Medal, 
Pan-American Exposition; 1902, Gold Medal, 
Charleston Exposition; 1904, Silver Medal, St. Louis 
Exposition; 1911, Evans Prize, Salmagundi Club; 1915, 
Silver Medal, Pan-Pacific Exposition, San Francisco. 
He was a member of the National Academy of Dez 
sign, Society of American Artists, New York Water 
Color Club, American Water Color Society, Salmaz 
gundi Club, Lotus Club, National Arts Club and the 
Century Club of New York. 


EXHIBITIONS 
Memorial Exhibition. The Lotus Club. Novem: 


ber, 1921. 
Loan Exhibition. The Macbeth Gallery. 1921. 
Memorial Exhibition. The Salmagundi Club. 
November, 1921. 
Loan Exhibition. The Vose Gallery. Boston. 


1922. 


63 


TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY COPIES OF THIS 
BOOK ON DUTCH HANDMADE PAPER PRIVATELY 
PRINTED BY FREDERIC FAIRCHILD SHERMAN 


Jp. FLSA 


. be j 
if p 
Pau, 


* 


ee oer ee a 


Lb 
Rea ows 
, ae 
ae 
ae 
{ 
*. 
see 


Sg Sal BN UN. a Pete? 


TN Ve 


er BE 


ie St 
z + 


Sd ww 


faa: Rey ARO 
an 


bop Ray iepieep o 
Sg ae) LE: é 


eae hs 


Cin 


